In the 10th grade I wore an array of Abercrombie & Fitch sweaters in mustards and burnt sienna. I bought smart corduroys and tan shoes. I went from a “construction worker lunch pail”-toting, pleather skirt wearing-girl who dreamed of owning a white Jeep to a girl full of pep who picked apples and went on haunted hayrides.

How did I make such a giant, lame leap for womankind?  Continue reading »